


Targets

by mizyin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Kissing, dumb fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizyin/pseuds/mizyin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alphinaud is a target of political violence, and wakes up in the hospital with a guest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confusion and Disarray

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a challenge posed by a friend, in return for losing a bet with them. I still can't believe I wrote as much as I did. Spoilers up through 3.2, major character death mention...just be caught up on story if you wanna avoid an accidental spoiler? Rated Mature simply on the merit that it may later become as such....this fic is basically said friend's go-to if I lose bets so...it'll probably get longer.  
> (Belated edit: said friend that won bets/challenges to get alph/wol fics has a whole huge headcanon for it, they don't age up alph 'just to ship' but since they're kinda bad at writing things like this, that's why it's the kind of thing they had me write when I lost bets. Just...for clarity there.)

Regardless of the status his name held, Alphinaud could honestly say he had never expected to be a target for political violence. Then again, he’d never expected to be embroiled in a foreign political situation, either. He was mildly concerned that these were the first thoughts to cross his mind when the first arrow ripped through his shoulder; he staggered slightly. 

It didn’t take long for the second to land, then the third and fourth. Before he had a chance to react, the guards were upon the assailant, a cloth covering his face, shouting obscenities in his direction as Alphinaud staggered again, this time losing his footing and stumbling to the pavement, hands splayed over the cold ground. His head spun, the wound couldn’t be bad enough to hurt like this unless there was something on those arrows, he thought, as the world around him dimmed, and he heard people shouting his name. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness entirely was the Warrior, running to his side. 

He awoke some time later in a bed, though he felt it was unlikely to be his own. The world still had a haze about it, but he could make out a small dresser, some curtains. It appeared to be an infirmary of sorts, though he couldn’t place where. As he slowly gathered his wits, he finally noticed the sleeping figure at the foot of the bed. She seemed to have fallen asleep in the chair nearby, and was bent over in a most uncomfortable looking position, her hair tousled and messy, clinging lightly to the blankets. 

He was unsure how long he had been asleep, but he felt stiff. Recalling the events prior to losing consciousness, the young man touched at his shoulder, wincing hard. It was still very sore, and he was afraid to try and move it. He looked around for anyone to question about the situation, but the only person he saw was her. 

_Gods, she is going to be cross with me over this,_ he thought to himself, with half a smile. She was putting herself in the line of fire so often, she seemed to feel it a personal slight to ever not be the one in recovery. He recalled how she’d fretted over Aymeric as he recovered from his stab wound, and how she’d paid so many visits to Thancred after discovering how he’d injured his face. He wondered if she would be just as concerned for him, though he certainly hoped she wouldn’t. The guilt he would face from putting her through such stress would be palatable. 

Almost as if she had heard him thinking of her, the woman awoke with a start. She blinked up at him, face lit with shock, before bursting into tears. He had no chance to speak before she had rushed up to embrace him, almost too roughly, as he held back a yelp from the pain. He couldn’t help but be very aware of his face being pressed rather tightly to her chest, and he blushed at the feeling, before attempting to pry himself away. Letting her continue would have been a bit more pain than he felt up to handling at that moment. 

She thankfully took the hint, and elected to instead hold his face in her hands, still crying, though at least no longer hurting him while she did so. He was unsure of what to say, but led with, “I’m fine, honestly. Please…truly it…it is nothing!” Her face flattened a bit, and she stared for a moment, disbelievingly. 

“Alphinaud…you were unconscious for almost six suns. Th…that…that’s not nothing!” His face, too, became a stare of disbelief, as the woman began to cry again, “I thought you really were gone. I thought I lost you like Moenbryda, like Ysayle and Haurchefant!” _Could it really have been that long?_ It had felt as if mere bells to him…Her face was streaked with tears, and he lifted a hand up to hold her face as well. He couldn’t bear to see her like this, but he was unsure how he could calm her down, as she continued, “They d…didn’t know what that bastard had put on the arrows at first, and couldn’t get him to talk! They weren’t sure if they could find a way to treat it in time and…and…” she broke into another sob. He shook his head, “Honestly… _honestly,_ I feel fine now, it’s going to be fine now, I’m not going anywhere!” The woman before him swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears, before she replied, quietly, “Haurchefant said he wasn’t going anywhere as well, you know,” her voice still quavering. 

Sometimes, he realized that he very much took for granted the amount of loss that the Warrior of Light had seen in these past years. Of course she would be concerned any time a friend was hurt, with how many she’d seen die before her. She seemed to be recomposing herself now, as she made herself busy with checking the bandages on his shoulder, taking care now to avoid hurting him. “I’m…I’m so relieved,” she sighed, as she changed the gauze out for fresh dressings, “You wouldn’t believe how hard they tried to keep me from staying in here with you…” 

“What do you mean?” _She was trying to stay with me the whole time…and they were having to fight keep her away?_ That couldn’t mean what he thought it meant. 

“You only got attacked that day because of me. You wouldn’t have even come to Ishgard if not for me. You would have never become embroiled in this conflict if not for me. I…I could not bear to lose you like that, and I didn’t want to leave your side for a moment, in case…” 

_That cannot mean what I think it means_ , he told himself, before she continued. 

“Do you remember anything from when you were out?” she asked, locking her gaze to his once more. They were so wide, and bright, he felt he could lose himself in them, and he shook his head, “No, I remember nothing. This whole ordeal…it may as well have been a matter of bells to me.” She looked disappointed for some reason, before she resumed, “I talked to you quite a bit, told you things that…I don’t quite have the courage to tell you awake, for fear I’d never have a chance to tell you, that you’d never wake up.” 

_That_ _**cannot**_ _mean what I think it means._ “You could tell me now. Surely the renowned Warrior of Light wouldn’t be lacking in courage right now, now that you know I’m on the mend?” He searched her face for some clue, some indication that she intended to say what he thought she may...what he hoped she may, he realized with a bit of inward shock. 

She smiled at him again, “You're so _arrogant_ _,_ you know that, Alphinaud?” 

_Not what I'd had in mind,_ he thought, crestfallen. “I'm aware I...can often be arrogant, and self-assured, yes.” She seemed to notice that he'd dropped the excited tone, and her face fell as well. 

“No...no that's not....” she pulled herself up onto the bed, seating herself against the uninjured arm, “That's not what I meant. You say I couldn't possibly still be afraid, and yet here you are, still abed, still with gauze packed at your shoulder...You feeling well in the moment doesn't put me at ease. I feel like I can't protect you, and I want nothing more than that. I want to...” 

“You want to...what?” She didn't respond, staring at him. “You want to _what_ , my frie--” the question was cut off as she pressed her lips to his, catching him entirely off guard. It was a chaste kiss, not intended to have passion behind it, he felt, as she pulled away swiftly and looked down, her hands in her lap. “You wanted to... _that?_ ” he asked. 

She looked up, her face still red, “More than that.” 

It was his turn to go red, _she... truly meant what I thought she meant?_

“I love you, Alphinaud.” 

_She...meant..._ “I'm...I'm not sure what to say.” He looked and sounded as stunned as he felt. 

“I would be content to be with you forever,” she continued, the words falling out of her mouth without hesitation now. Now he was even more confused, he was unsure of what she could possibly mean at this point. Was this a confession? A proposal? 

“If anything happened to you, I'd lose my will to fight,” she shook her head, “Haurchefant once spoke of me being the light of hope to the people. If I am, then you were the ember to light it. You are _everything_ to me. The only constant has been us, you and I, from the moment you rejoined with the Scions. We've built and built and rebuilt so many fragile moments of peace, iterations of the Scions built on you and I alone, with Tataru to help, I mean, but...” she twisted her hands in her doublet, frustrated and unable to articulate her intent, it seemed. He didn't like seeing her so frustrated. 

Trying to not wince visibly, he turned himself to face her, using his good arm to climb up and over, straddling the woman and pulling her into a tight hug. He felt her heart race against his chest, loving the feeling, “I understand.” She shook her head, but he insisted, “I honestly understand.” He brushed the hair out of her face, keeping his eyes locked to hers, returning the earlier sentiment with another chaste kiss, before giving into something more substantial. She opened her mouth to his, and he didn't resist as she explored his mouth, nipping at his lips, her hands moving around to his back, trying to pull him in even closer. He was lightheaded, he was breathless, when she pulled away, he almost reached to pull her back in. 

She shook her head again, “You're still on bedrest. If we...if we were to keep at that kiss, I may not be able to stop myself...” Her eyes broke the gaze again as she looked away. Alphinaud placed a hand on her shoulder, “Then...when I've been given leave...can you promise me that we'll...resume? That kiss?” She nodded, blushing, “That...and more.” It was his turn to blush then, after a moment, when he realized what she'd meant. The two young Scions sat in silence for some time after, contemplating the gravity of the realization that their feelings were mutual. No words were needed; each content to simply know the other was safe, and feeling the same. 


	2. Knots and Tangles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphinaud let's the WoL let his hair down, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take bad bets. Also unsafe fic trades. I should have known said friend would request more of this.

Alphinaud's shoulder was healing well, or so the healer had told them, but the Warrior was still concerned. She clung to him in his waking hours, fretting over his every move. He couldn't help but be flattered, he realized, the constant attention more of a pleasant change than not. It was a welcome thing, honestly, after the day the pair had confessed their feelings towards each other, to not have to be apart. The kiss they'd shared still clung in his mind; every time their hands brushed against each other, he found himself blushing at the memory returning. 

It was after a long day, being at last shuffled out of the infirmary, then bustled between meeting after meeting, that the pair finally found themselves back at Fortemps Manor, able to rest in what was tantamount to home. Alphinaud found himself slumping to the sofa seat, letting out a soft sigh before reaching the bad arm up to remove the tie of his braid before wincing hard. He looked over at her, an unspoken, embarrassed plea in his eyes. It had been bad enough he'd been having to ask for help putting it INTO the braid, though she was always willing. 

Smiling, she arose, shuffling over and seating herself behind him. He tried to hide a shiver as she slid in behind him. Sitting in her lap was a treat, such a safe feeling, he grinned, trying to hide the red in his cheeks as he felt her hands start on the tie. She carefully unwound it, the ribbon removed, then the tie itself, and she carefully began to work her fingers through the soft white locks. She had long hair herself, and for that, he was grateful, as he'd had the braid unceremoniously yanked at more than once when others had attempted to help. 

Alphinaud let out a contented sigh as the woman worked her hands, moving through each strand, ensuring no tangles or knots as she unwound both the hair and his tension. He felt himself relaxing, at last, as he leaned back into her. She startled him when she spoke, “I really do love your hair, Alphinaud. It's...almost like silk, so fine, and yet it holds shape better than most fine hair...” It was a chaste sentiment, and yet it flustered him. 

He turned around to rebuke the compliment, “Your hair is far more beautiful...I don't know why you would--” and she cut him off, the kiss catching him as he was defenseless to refuse it, not that he would have. His flushed face grew even more red as she broke the kiss off, the two left staring at each other, neither sure what to say. He continued his train of thought regardless, after a moment, “I don't know why you'd seen mine worth a compliment like that...” 

Her face looked both saddened at the rebuttal and happy to have another excuse to speak on his hair, “It's spun silver, Alphinaud! It's like spider's thread, I...I don't have the words to say all the things I want to about it, mine own cannot hold a matchstick to yours, let alone a candle!” She shook her head, “Permit me, may I...?” He wasn't sure what she was wanting to do, but she was far too excited for him to feel he could say no. He wanted to stoke the woman's happiness to blazing, if he could, and he nodded to whatever the request was. 

The warrior sheepishly buried her face in the long white locks, still running her fingers through it as she did, kissing at it and nuzzling against his head. The sudden closeness and brazen show of affection, after the kiss moments before, was enough to leave him lightheaded as blood rushed elsewhere, and his heart raced. He worked up the courage to turn around to face her, interrupting the play for a moment, and saw her eyes heated, felt her pulse racing as hard as his was, her face flushed and breathless. _All from my hair...?_ he wondered to himself, before leaning in to close the distance between their faces, aiming to steal another kiss. 

“Alphinaud, are you two still awa--” the voice stopped mid-question as the two both jerked their heads up at the interruption. Artoirel stood in the doorway with a mug, voice stifled by the sight he'd walked into. The two quickly separated, as the elder Fortemps brother coughed and turned his attention back to the drink he carried, before adding, “I'd wanted some mulled cider after all the exertion today, and wanted to offer a mug to you as well, but if you're otherwise preoccupied,” the man was clearly embarrassed by what he'd walked into. 

The silvered haired man found his voice before the warrior did, “That sounds lovely, friend, I appreciate the thought.” After all, the shoulder still wasn't fully mended, he told himself, and restraint was still a good idea...regardless of how much they wanted to disregard the thought. Hopefully fate would intervene long enough that the poor man could recover without exacerbating the injury. The two sat blushing as Artoirel left to retrieve the cider for them, both cursing and relieved at the interruption. Anything good was worth waiting for, after all. 


End file.
